Chapter 1
“Yara! Wait up!” Silas calls after me, jogging to keep up with my normal walking pace. “You walk like you’re in a speed‑walking competition.” His previously combed hair now frames his face, covering one emerald‑colored eye. “It’s not my fault you get tired after a little bit of walking.” I retort back, even hastening my pace a little more. He knows it isn’t true, though — he’s our school’s star runner after all. The one with like 20 gazillion medals. All gleaming gold.
Me?
I don’t have any exceptional talents, nor have I achieved anything remotely impressive. Put me in a group of overachievers, and I’d be the odd one out — no cap. Not that I’m complaining. I actually enjoy being boring. I’m not the most hated, not the most popular. I’m in the middle. Practically a ghost. Being a ghost means a 0.1% chance of getting bullied relentlessly.
Take ol’ Timmy, for example, the quiet kid in my class also known as the literal definition of an introvert. Group discussion incoming? He’s running to the bathroom. Random kid talks to him in the hallway? He’s going the opposite direction. And no one bothers him. Because he’s a ghost too.
I sigh mentally— a happy sigh. I love my boring life.
“Ooh Yara, you still in there?”
Silas pokes my side, the one place where it tickles and I burst out cracking. I’ll admit, I’m very ticklish there. I laughed too loud and caught the attention of three concerned adults who were looking at me like I was outta my mind.
Maybe I am.
____________________________________________________________________
The school hallway is bustling with noise and excitement as students of all grades make their way to their respective classes. A hall monitor calls for us to go in an orderly fashion. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that none of us are paying heed to her reminder — we’re as unorganized as a stampede of buffaloes.
I manage to catch Silas’s eye as we go our separate ways. He looks around to see if anyone is watching, then gives me a wink before running off with the popular group.
Yep. That’s right. My best friend Silas is a popular kid. No surprise there. He’s not only good-looking but also excellent at sports. He’s the real deal here. My eyes track his movements like a hawk. The way he smiles, the way he walks. (Very confidently with his head up) The way his eyes sparkle whenever the light catches them just right…….. ugh. I shake my head vigorously because I sound like a love sick poet. And that is so not me.
Once Silas is out of my line of sight, I start to make my way to my locker. Not to put stuff away, but to meet Rey, my other best friend. She’s amazing too, by the way. An artist in progress. Look at any of her paintings and you would think it was painted by Leonardo da Vinci.
She’s that good. But she’s also that quiet. Kind of like ol’ Timmy, but way more talkative. I hate to say this, but when she’s with me and/or Silas, she talks so much it’s like her mouth is a tap left running — words just pour out. I’m just saying, if you let her, she’ll talk your ear off. Sheesh.
Finally, my locker. 389. I lean against it and wait.
I tap me feet in a pattern, feeling a sensation wash over me. I guess people could say I’m very impatient. Even making cup noodles — the ones that take three minutes flat — is too long for me. Oooh. Cup noodles would be good right now.
“Three,” a tiny whisper I can barely hear. “Two,” a bit louder, but I have no idea where it’s coming from. “One,” there’s a hint of laughter behind that number. It sounds familiar…
“Hi, Yara!”
I leap two feet into the air. I forgot to mention that Rey is also an esteemed ninja. Sneaking up on me is her favorite pastime. Can. you. believe. it?
…“Hi, Rey… How ya doing? Got any tea?” Oh, and yes — Rey is also somehow involved in everyone’s affairs. I tried asking her how and why, but she completely ghosted me and changed the subject. It’s cliché, isn’t it? The ghost being ghosted. Mamma mia.
Rey’s hazel eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Oh my God, so much tea!” Then she proceeds to tell me all about ‘Mia’ and ‘Justin’ who are apparently dating, when I don’t even know a ‘Mia’ or ‘Justin’! (Triple exclamation points.)
But it’s okay. As long as I have a friend who accepts me, I ain’t gonna let go of them — even if it means listening to them yap about ‘Mia and Justin.’
Smiley face emoji
